


The Best Vampire Hunters in London

by kaelma



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Developing Friendships, Gen, No Civilian Kills | Not Even Once, Sean Hampton is a vampire, The title is ironic, bonding over vampire trauma, except for one skal, mentions of past trauma, that's the plot, there is no vampire hunting in this fic, they just want to help people, three people who need hugs and therapy become fast friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:53:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28551168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaelma/pseuds/kaelma
Summary: "My name is Louise Teasdale. I want you to teach me.”Ichabod blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
Relationships: Ichabod Throgmorton & Clarence Crossley, Ichabod Throgmorton & Louise Teasdale, Louise Teasdale & Clarence Crossley
Comments: 26
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by that moment where Louise says she wants to become a vampire hunter after Jonathan saves her.

“Excuse me? Are you Mr. Ichabod Throgmorton?”

Ichabod looked at the young woman approaching his post outside the Night Shelter with alarm. She had recently been battered; the bruises and cuts on her face and hands hadn’t quite healed yet. She was dressed in a practical, plain dress, but good quality. Her head was held high, back straight. This was a woman on a mission. “Yes, I am. What can I do for you?”

“You’re a vampire hunter.”

It was a statement, not a question, which surprised him. People didn’t usually say that with such certainty, yet she was perfectly serious. “Yes,” he answered simply, secretly wary though he put on his best bravado. "Have you seen anything suspicious, something you think might warrant my particular skills?"

He tried not to let his excitement show too much as she nodded. “I have, but that's not why I'm here."

His excitement faded, turning quickly to confusion. "Oh?"

"My name is Louise Teasdale. I want you to teach me.”

Ichabod blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

He had to admit, the girl was a fast study. It had been unnerving at first to have her correct him with examples of her own experiences, but he gladly accepted the new information with all the gusto it deserved.

"Turn to smoke! You saw this happen?" At her nod, he shouted, "Remarkable!" He quickly quenched his enthusiasm at her skeptical glance, all solemnity and seriousness, "Ah, not the ordeal you suffered, of course, Miss Teasdale. You must understand that, apart from the Guard of Priwen types who are far too stuffy and militaristic to give me the time of day, I've had very few dealings with people who even believe vampires exist, let alone one who has witnessed their powers firsthand. I myself, I am not too proud to admit, have only witnessed a sample of their full capabilities."

She summoned a smile, an excellent determination to see her cause through. He admired that. "I understand. I'm surprised to hear myself talking about it so calmly, sometimes."

"You show great strength of character, my lady, and I am honored to teach you everything I know, and learn everything you can teach me in return. Now! What do you know of a vampire's weaknesses, and have you ever wielded a weapon?"

"Something about wooden stakes?" She shrugged, "My father taught me how to swing a machete."

Ichabod wondered about the hitch in her voice as she mentioned her father, but honestly her answer had him so flabbergasted he didn't think to ask about it. "A machete?" 

She blinked, and grinned. "Sure. Used to work as a waitress."

"You say that as if it explains anything!"

She laughed, just a small quiet sound. He had the impression she hadn't had much cause to laugh, lately. "So stakes really work, then?"

"What? Oh! Yes, as a matter of fact." And Ichabod launched into his explanation of efficient weapons against a vampire's few weaknesses. He kept waiting for Miss Teasdale to leave… but she didn't. He had himself a pupil. An apprentice.

It was both thrilling and terrifying.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone's comments!! I'm thrilled folks are excited to see more of this, and hope you enjoy!

Louise had had her doubts about Mr. Throgmorton, she could admit that. She still suspected he wasn't quite the experienced professional he made himself out to be, but he obviously wanted to be, and was trying to be, and that was a hell of a lot better than nothing. The first night was spent talking about vampires, how to recognize one and how to protect yourself. The night after that they set up a training dummy behind the Night Shelter and she showed what she could do with her machete. Dad's machete, really, but that seemed fitting. It felt good to be doing something, to keep her mind off how much she missed him, how much she still hated herself for what happened, hated him for driving her away…

"Louise?"

She stopped midswing. The dummy was hacked fair to pieces. Just old wood and straw, but still. "Oh," she breathed.

Mr. Throgmorton studied her, "Miss Teasdale, is there something on your mind?"

She brushed him off, "Just got a bit carried away."

He sighed, "Very well. As I think the physical training portion of the evening is completed," he gestured to the dummy's remains, "let's discuss more along the lines of vampire lore."

They sat and talked a bit, but they’d covered what Ichabod knew, and Louise had told everything she’d seen, so it was more a short review than a lesson. It wasn’t long before Mr. Throgmorton shifted awkwardly and summoned a bit of courage.

"Miss Teasdale, I hope you won't think this forward, but I want you to know that whatever your reasons for coming to me are… I’m glad you did. And I fully respect that your reasons are your own, but should you ever wish to discuss them or simply have a willing ear to listen,” he glanced sidelong at her, uncertain if he was overstepping some unseen boundary, “I would be honored to do so. That's all I'll say on the matter, but I wanted you to know."

Louise swallowed hard, "Thank you. I'll keep that in mind."

He nodded, "Good. Did you know that there might be multiple forms of vampire?"

She blinked at the topic change, and smiled gratefully. "What do you mean?"

"We've spent most of our time discussing the vampires that appear human at first glance, but I recently glimpsed the Guard of Priwen fighting a more savage form that was feeding on a corpse. Perhaps weaker than its more dignified cousins, but no less a threat to the safety of London's citizens."

And so the lesson continued.

Louise arrived early the following night, just after sundown. As a vampire hunter, Mr. Throgmorton kept a similar sleep schedule to his intended prey. Louise still wasn't sure if he actually stayed at the Night Shelter or just went there every night. He had appointed himself the Shelter's guardian, and had a great deal of respect for the man in charge. Louise had only heard rumors of the so-called "sad saint" and seen him from across the yard once or twice.

Tonight, the Sad Saint of the East End took notice of the vampire hunter's apprentice as she idled by the gate.

"Back again for lessons from Mr. Throgmorton?"

Louise jumped, startled, "Yes." She had to stop losing herself in her thoughts like that. She usually noticed people around her, a habit gained from waitressing. "You're Mr. Hampton, aren't you?"

"I am," he said with a nod. "And you're Miss Louise Teasdale. Ichabod speaks highly of you."

"He does?" She hoped she didn't sound or look as surprised as she felt. She tried not to stare at the lesions on Mr. Hampton's face and his strange eyes, but she didn't want to simply look away, either. Seemed somehow worse, pretending not to see. Whatever injury or illness Mr. Hampton suffered, it was nothing compared to blood-red eyes, a sweet face turned vicious and fanged. If she should stand the memory of that, then she could certainly have a conversation with a supposed saint, no matter his appearance.

"Ichabod hasn't arrived yet,” Mr. Hampton was saying, “but there's no need to wait out here for him. There's food inside—"

"I'm not hungry, thank you," Louise interrupted, uncomfortable though she put a smile on, "and I don't mind waiting." She didn't feel right taking Mr. Hampton's charity when there were others who actually needed it.

Hampton didn't push, "Suit yourself." He hesitated, "May I ask a question, Miss Teasdale?"

Louise shrugged, "Go ahead."

"Why the lessons?" When she didn't answer right away, he said, "I promise I won't mock the answer you give me."

"You still won't believe me."

He chuckled, "Given it's Mr. Throgmorton you're here to see, I can safely assume you think you saw a vampire. I'm curious as to why the urge to learn to hunt it."

"A vampire abducted me, trapped me in a cage in the sewer," she snapped, then caught herself and turned the rant into a grumble. "Wanted to force me to become his immortal bride or some shit."

Mr. Hampton's brow rose, "I apologize for belittling your reasons, please forgive me. How did you escape?"

"A doctor, of all things—"

"Dr. Jonathan Reid?"

Louise's eyes widened in surprise, "Yes. You know him?"

"Yes. He… treated me.”

“Were you in hospital?” Louise gently asked, hearing his hesitation.

Mr. Hampton smiled, just a little, somewhere between amused and sad. “I was. Dr. Reid takes his oath to heal the sick seriously, and I believe he will do anything he can to protect the innocent.”

"But…?"

"I won't deny he's a brilliant man of science, but it would do him good to have a little faith." He watched her closely then, curious. "Did you see the fight?"

Louise looked away, her face turning red. "No. I couldn't look, for all my shouting. Just heard horrible sounds as I stood there, too terrified to move or even look up."

"There's no shame in that, Miss Teasdale," Mr. Hampton quietly reassured her. "Many a brave soul, when faced with forces they cannot comprehend, with certain death, freeze at the sight."

"I'm not going to ever again," she said with solid determination. "That's why I keep coming to Mr. Throgmorton, to learn everything I can, to maybe be able to fight back the next time a monster attacks me."

"You come to him because he's the only one who'll believe you?"

She nodded, "He's never doubted me, and never pushed to know anything."

"Unlike nosy saints," Mr. Hampton joked.

Louise smirked, "I'll take a nosy saint over people in the West End who pretend nothing is wrong."

He made an understanding sound and said, "Miss Teasdale, I have no wish to dissuade your instructions from Ichabod if they're a help to you… but keep in mind the man is only human, and working with a very limited knowledge of the subject. Be careful."

"Ah, Miss Teasdale!" Ichabod called. He was hurrying toward them, tying his bowtie as he went. "I see I've kept you waiting, my apologies. I'm afraid I overslept," he finished sheepishly.

Louise giggled as Mr. Hampton light-heartedly scolded, "I've been telling you to get more rest for weeks, Mr. Throgmorton."

"And while your concern is duly noted and appreciated, Mr. Hampton, the hunt rests for no man!"

"Are you even certain what that means?"

"It means how can I rest when there's work to be done! Training to do!"

"I don't sleep well, either," Louise quietly said.

Ichabod was brought up short, mid grand gesture. "Ah. Um." He rubbed the back of his neck, "Well, it's true it's… difficult, sometimes."

"I can see I'm leaving you in good hands," Mr. Hampton commented as he smoothly stepped back through the gate.

"The best!" Ichabod declared with a grin.

Hampton laughed and called over his shoulder, "I was referring to the good hands of Miss Teasdale!"

"Very funny," Ichabod grumbled as Louise laughed.


	3. Chapter 3

Louise could hardly focus as Ichabod talked. Mr. Hampton had been right; they simply didn't know enough about vampires to be effective hunters. How the hell did a person learn about vampires? Any books were just as likely to be legend instead of fact. It wasn't like there were pamphlets or— wait, the man on the corner by that fancy private club, the one who seemed a little… off. He had pamphlets about vampires. Where did he get his information? She always assumed he made it up, but what if he didn't?

"Miss Teasdale? Is something wrong?"

She blinked and looked at a frowning Ichabod, "Sorry! I was just thinking… well, I was thinking that we need more information about vampires to really be effective."

Ichabod cocked an eyebrow, "I agree that more information about the enemy is always a benefit, but how do you expect to find it outside of first hand experience?"

"There's a man that's been publishing pamphlets, I think his name's Crossley—"

"Clarence Crossley? I've seen a few of those. A bit overly dramatic."

"Overly dramatic?" Louise smirked, "Have you seen your posters?"

"Those must be visually arresting in order to gain notice!" Ichabod defended with great bluster. "Did you see Crossley's pamphlet about vampires feasting on our souls? Not a practical piece of information to be found!"

"So it's all nonsense?"

Mr. Throgmorton shifted from one foot to the other. "Well, no. I don't know how he came by some of his information, but much of it seems plausible."

"Great, let's go ask him how he knows!"

Ichabod folded his arms, "I suppose you know where he lives?"

"I know the corner where he hands out his pamphlets every night." She huffed at Ichabod's skeptical expression, "This isn't a set up, if that's what you're thinking."

He blinked, "No! I wasn't thinking that at all."

"Are you jealous?"

"What?! Don't be ridiculous."

Louise grinned, hands on her hips, "You're upset someone knows more about vampires than you do!"

"That remains to be seen!" he declared. Then he smiled and offered a bow with arm outstretched, "Lead the way, my lady. Let's see if your… eccentric scholar, is the fount of information we hope for."

They avoided the Priwen patrols out of caution; as Ichabod said, better to stay out of the way than risk being trod underfoot. The Guard of Priwen seemed far more concerned with finding their prey than they were with whatever collateral damage might result. War, and all that.

"I don't think I could ever be a soldier," Louise muttered. "I was never much good at taking orders."

"Nonsense, I'm sure you were a superb waitress."

She elbowed his side with a smile, "Not those kinds of orders." As they took a narrow alley to avoid another Priwen patrol, Louise asked, "Can I ask about Mr. Hampton?"

"What about him?"

"Has he always looked…"

"Ah." Throgmorton was suddenly subdued, "No, he hasn’t. He was attacked recently, and spent a few nights in hospital. When he came back, he had his current… condition. Whether caused by injury or disease, I'm not certain, but whatever the cause, it doesn't seem to be healing properly. Yet, he insists he doesn’t need further medical care. Trusting in the Lord, tending to his flock, those are the only matters on his mind."

Louise cocked her head, realizing, "You’re worried about him."

"Of course I am." A little bit of bluster and gravitas came back, but tempered down with sincerity, "He’s an admirable man, a true saint, though he denies it if you ever imply the nickname be taken seriously. It would be a tragedy beyond belief if anything happened to him."

Louise smiled, "Good thing he’s got you to watch out for him."

Ichabod beamed, "You mean good thing he’s got _us_ , Miss Teasdale!"

They kept walking. As they moved further toward the West End, Ichabod's feet started to drag. Louise noticed. "What's wrong?"

"Clarence Crossley is based in the West End?"

"Yeah. So?"

"How do you know what corner to find him on?"

She rolled her eyes, "I've seen him."

Ichabod planted his feet, halting their progress, "You live in the West End??"

"It was dad's idea," she grumbled, "I hate it."

His brow furrowed. "Miss Teasdale…"

"One of the reasons I like you is you don't ask questions about me."

He was surprised, and then hurt, and then frustrated. "Yes, I do. I simply respect your refusal to answer those questions." He sighed and shook his head, "Let's meet Mr. Crossley. This side of town is certainly outside my element, but what is the boundary of social class to one who hunts the supernatural?"

As they crossed into the West End, Louise quietly said, "Thanks, Ichabod."

He was quiet a moment, but smiled at her, "You're welcome, Louise."

Clarence Crossley was at his usual corner, pamphlets stacked on a crate beside him. He looked exhausted, rubbing the sides of his head now and then as if trying to fend off a terrible headache.

"Mr. Crossley?" Louise gently asked. He always seemed a little skittish, and she figured there was a good chance he'd think they were being cruel like everyone else. "I'm Louise Teasdale, and this is Mr. Ichabod Throgmorton—"

"Throgmorton!" Mr. Crossley's brow shot up as he looked at Ichabod like he couldn't decide if he should be skeptical or in awe. "The vampire hunter?"

Ichabod was delighted. "The same," he declared and put out a hand. "My apprentice tells me you're a veritable library of vampiric lore. We could use a man like you in our work!"

Clarence blinked three times as he shook hands with Mr. Throgmorton before he registered what the vampire hunter had just said. "Me? I'm not… I've only read what… apprentice?" He looked at Louise, confused.

"I probably shouldn't have sprung that on you all at once," Ichabod apologized, "but it's true. Miss Teasdale is my apprentice, after she experienced a harrowing ordeal with one of the beasts. We would like for you to work with us, given that there is always more to learn about the enemy, and you seem to know where to find the information."

"I just collect everything I can find," Clarence protested. "If you dig deep enough, there are all sorts of rumors that turn out to hold truth."

"And you, sir, have done the digging. Having a scholar on the team could only help our cause!"

Clarence shook his head, "I'm not a scholar. Just a washed up soldier everyone thinks is mad."

"We don't," Louise was firm. "We know you're not. We aren't asking you to fight, Mr. Crossley—"

"Though a man with military experience would naturally—"

Louise elbowed Ichabod and he shut up, "We just want you to teach us what you know, help us learn more about vampires so we can fight them."

He nervously looked between them, took a breath, and nodded. “All right. When do we start?”

“Immediately,” Ichabod grinned.


	4. Chapter 4

Mr. Crossley proved to be just as informed as Ichabod had hoped. Miss Teasdale’s instinct had been spot on, not that he’d ever doubted her, of course. Clarence Crossley was a sickly sort of fellow, which worried Ichabod, but he was more than eager to share everything he’d learned once they managed to coax him from his shell. If they could convince him to work on his physical health, he’d be an excellent resource on the hunt.

“I’m hoping to get some new material soon,” Mr. Crossley was telling Louise. “It’s hard for me to get places, I’m… not well, but I’ve a friend who said he’d keep an eye out.”

“This friend of yours believes in vampires?” Louise asked, skeptical.

Clarence shrugged a little, “He believes that I believe in them. He said he believed me when I told him I saw one during the War.”

“Mr. Crossley,” Ichabod said, “may I ask if you’ve ever considered putting your knowledge to a more direct, practical use?” At Louise’s nudge he hastened, “Not that informing the public isn’t important, of course! I merely wonder if you’d ever thought of playing a more, ah… physical role in the fight.”

Clarence snorted, “Me? Hunt vampires?”

“We could teach you! You teach us, we teach you!”

“Don’t get too excited, Ichabod,” Louise warned.

“Why not? Mr. Crossley, as a veteran of war, you own a firearm I imagine?”

“Ichabod.”

“Louise?”

“He doesn’t have to fight if he doesn’t want to.”

“Of course he doesn’t. But how do you know he doesn’t if you don’t ask?”

“Guns are useless against vampires,” Clarence stated.

“Not useless!” Ichabod corrected. “Less effective than on a human, perhaps, but far from useless! I’ve also seen some of the Guard of Priwen walking around with guns that seem to shoot fire instead of bullets, or belching clouds of chemicals. Clearly there are uses for firearms that we have not fully considered.”

Clarence thought about this a moment. “Why aren’t either of you in the Guard of Priwen?”

“Can you picture either of us in an army?” Louise smirked.

Clarence chuckled, “No. No, I can’t.”

"Hmph," Ichabod scoffed, "especially not an army financed by stolen money."

"Stolen money?" Clarence and Louise asked in unison.

"Giselle Paxton at the Night Shelter was beset by thieves matching the description of the Guard of Priwen."

"That doesn't mean the whole organization—" Clarence started, but Ichabod wasn't having it.

"That sort of behavior is unacceptable! Things are hard enough on the Docks without hunters stealing from the people they should be protecting. Besides, they may say anyone can join, but if you aren't a member then you may as well not exist."

"You don't like them because they don't take you seriously," Clarence flatly stated.

"I am wary of them," Ichabod corrected, "for a great many reasons, not least of which is my preference for stealth instead of brute force."

"I have a hard time imagining you sneaking anywhere."

"I would gladly provide a demonstration, but it would require you to come away from your safe and well-lit corner."

"Safe?" Clarence shook his head, his voice low, "No place is safe. They've worked their way into every level of society, even government. This well-lit corner is down the street from one of their clubs!"

"Mr. Crossley," Louise calmly cut in, hearing the panic in his voice, "why bother with all the pamphlets and everything if it's hopeless?"

He was startled, "What?"

"You can warn people all you want, no one's going to believe you until it's too late. Why bother?"

"I can't just say nothing! I thought things would be different when I came home from France, thought that I could finally rest…"

"But you saw something," Ichabod prompted with a quiet seriousness that always surprised Louise.

Clarence nodded, "So many dead from the epidemic… the creatures were feasting on the corpses. I've learned that they're called skals, the degenerate offspring of vampires."

"Skal," Ichabod repeated. "Other vampires refer to them as such?"

Clarence nodded, latching onto the academic question as a lifeline away from his memories, "Yes, I think they've got their own names for themselves. Different types."

"You're still fighting," Ichabod said, "in your way. I believe that's what Miss Teasdale was getting at. We may not be a match against the upper-escalon vampires, but we can do something about the terrors crawling the streets. We have to at least try."

"So let's do it," Louise said.

Ichabod turned to her, alarmed, "Pardon?"

"Let's go hunting," she said, determined. "All three of us. No point in lessons if I don't use them."

Ichabod cleared his throat, "You were just adamant that Mr. Crossley needn't fight if he—"

"I'll come," Clarence said.

"You will?" Ichabod and Louise asked in unison, though Louise was vastly more excited.

Ichabod tried to recover, "Splendid. We'll embark on a hunt along the Docks, I'm most familiar with that area." He did his best impression of command and hoped the veteran soldier wouldn't see through him, "I want you both to be in top shape, so get plenty of rest… as much as any of us can, at least."

They agreed on a meeting place for the next night, and Ichabod and Louise took their leave. Though Louise was walking with him toward the quarantine barrier, Ichabod suddenly remembered he'd be going back alone.

"You make the trip from here to the Docks every night?" he asked her. His brow furrowed as she nodded, "That's increasingly dangerous."

"Good thing I'm learning to defend myself, then," she smiled.

He managed to smile back. "All the same, I'd feel better if you made the walk before sunset. Or I can come here—"

"Where would we train on this side of town?" Louise scoffed. "Besides, you're the Night Shelter's guardian. I wouldn't want you to abandon your post every night."

"Then we'll start meeting before sunset. I would never forgive myself if something were to happen to my apprentice on her way to her lessons."

Louise rolled her eyes, "There are plenty of dangers for a girl walking alone in the daylight, too."

"Those don't usually drink blood or eat corpses," was Ichabod's dry riposte.

"Wouldn't surprise me if some of 'em did," she grumbled.

Ichabod sighed, "You're a brave woman, Miss Teasdale. Braver than I am, by far. Get some rest."


	5. Chapter 5

London’s streets were crawling with the Guard of Priwen, making the prospect of isolating a vampire of their own even less likely than before. Miss Teasdale would not be dissuaded, however, and even though Mr. Throgmorton seemed more subdued than expected, he led them through the alleys of the Docks. Clarence still wasn’t sure what he was doing here, what had possessed him to come along on this terrifyingly dangerous mission. He never went out at night, he never left his corner after sunset. Now he was following a vampire hunter and his apprentice in a dangerous part of town, at the most dangerous time of the day?

He grimaced as his insides convulsed, his muscles spasming. He’d stopped eating or drinking for the most part at home, thinking that might buy him some time. Maybe that was why he was doing this, to prove that the demons could be fought, that he wasn’t killing himself for nothing. If only he could find the evidence to make Venus see, then she would understand why he had to put her through so much. He didn’t expect her to love him, not anymore, but maybe she could forgive him.

Mr. Throgmorton suddenly stopped. A strangled howl came from the alley just ahead of them. The Guard of Priwen were preoccupied two streets down. The shouting and sounds of gunfire were awful, but it was the snarling coming from the alley that made Clarence's head hurt and his teeth clench.

The vampire hunter was shivering as he crept forward and peered around the corner. He slid back and whispered, "Just one. It's eating. I'll sneak up behind it and attack first, Mr. Crossley shoots it, and then Miss Teasdale attacks."

Clarence nodded, drawing his Parabellum even as his hand refused to obey, the taste of bile and blood on the back of his tongue. He'd taken the gun off a German soldier during the war and never regretted it. Hopefully Mr. Throgmorton was right and bullets would be of use.

The vampire hunter crept forward, not gracefully by any stretch of the imagination, but with great care to be as quiet as possible. Whether the creature was too intent on its meal to notice or whether Ichabod Throgmorton was actually that good at moving quietly, the hunter struck the beast in the back, right between the shoulders.

The creature howled, Ichabod scrambled backward, and Clarence fired. The skal seemed stunned, disoriented, and Miss Teasdale rushed forward and swung for the head with her machete. She missed the head, but made contact with the chest, slashing through with two fierce swings before the creature lunged, knocking her to the ground.

"Louise!" Ichabod shouted and bodily slammed the skal against the wall of the alley before punching it in the face with his stake.

"Down!" Clarence shouted, and as soon as Ichabod dove for the ground Clarence opened fire with all six remaining bullets. The thing screamed, leaped… and impaled itself on Miss Teasdale's blade. The young woman's face was a grimace of determination against the flailing claws, and Mr. Throgmorton was up again, stake through the creature's chest as Miss Teasdale pulled her machete out of its belly. Clarence reloaded, took three steps forward, and fired. He fired three times, even though the skal stopped moving after the second.

Everyone breathed.

Ichabod spoke first. "Are you alright, Louise?"

She nodded, still a bit breathless, "Landed funny when I hit the ground, but nothing broken. Scratches and bruises, hardly be able to tell."

Clarence felt a mad laugh threatening, but breathed deeply and focused on reloading his weapon, just in case. "My god. That worked."

"It did indeed," Mr. Throgmorton nodded, his troubled gaze on the skal.

Louise grinned, "We did it. We really did it."

"Three to one," Ichabod cautioned, "and still quite an effort, but progress." He shook his head and ushered them out of the alley, "Let's get you two home, I can't have my colleagues falling over from exhaustion."

The word rang through Clarence's head; colleagues. Not only did they believe him, but they would help him. And he had _fought_. He was still shaking, his head spinning, and he couldn't tell if it was because of Venus's poison or because of the way his heart was hammering in his chest, but it didn't matter because he had help now… 

A hand on his elbow startled him. "I'll make sure Clarence gets back," Louise said. "No reason for you to go so out of your way, Ichabod. I remember the safest way back."

Ichabod was reluctant, but agreed. "Yes, alright. Take care of each other. We'll meet on Mr. Crossley's corner at sundown tomorrow night."

"I should be escorting you, Miss Teasdale," Clarence joked a little, "not the other way around."

She smiled kindly, "I won't tell anyone if you don't."

They walked quickly. Clarence could tell Louise wanted to say something everytime he grimaced in pain, but she didn't. Respecting his privacy? Whatever her reason, he was glad for it. He couldn't think of a convincing lie right now. 

The sight awaiting him on his usual corner banished all thoughts of pain. He picked up the pace, a startled Louise hurrying alongside. "Johnny?"

"Hello, Clarence," Jonathan Reid greeted with a curious glance at Louise. "Miss Teasdale."

"Hello, Dr. Reid."

"You know each other?" Clarence asked, surprised.

"He saved me from a vampire in the sewer," Louise said as if it wasn't an insane statement.

"He what?" Clarence stared at his old friend, stunned beyond belief. Dr. Jonathan Reid, best man at his wedding, had killed a vampire??

"I did tell you I believed you, old chap," Jonathan said awkwardly as he handed him a stack of papers, "and here are the documents you've been waiting for. Were the two of you recently in a fight?"

"No need to worry about that," Clarence took the documents glancing through them reverently, "what did you find… oh, this is incredible! Thank you, Johnny, you've no idea how much you've helped me!"

"I hope so," his friend muttered doubtfully.

"I'll take these home right away. Venus will see soon enough, I'm sure…" he turned back to Louise, "I'll see you tomorrow, Miss Teasdale. Thank you."

"See you, then," she said. "Can't wait to hear what Dr. Reid found."

"I'll give you and Mr. Throgmorton a full account," Clarence assured her with a tired smile. "Thanks again, Johnny," he said, and hurried home.

Louise watched Clarence leave and asked, "Who's Venus?"

"His wife."

The bitterness in the doctor’s answer surprised Louise, but she figured it wasn’t her business. Sometimes friends didn’t get on with wives. "Do you always make deliveries this late, Dr. Reid?"

Dr. Reid smiled a little, "I know Clarence tends to be up at this hour, and I had other business in this part of town, so I brought along what I'd managed to find for him."

"What sort of business does a doctor have at this time of night?"

"I could ask the same thing of young former waitresses."

"Hunting vampires. What's your excuse?"

Dr. Reid blinked, "You're still set on that?"

She nodded, hands on her hips, "I've been training with Mr. Throgmorton."

"I see. May I ask how you know Clarence?"

"Mr. Throgmorton and I asked him to help us learn about vampires. Those documents you found will hopefully help, he's been looking forward to them."

Dr. Reid sighed with a worried glance in the direction Clarence went, "I know." He turned back to her, stern, "Miss Teasdale, I must urge you to reconsider this vampire hunting business. If not for your own safety, then please see to it that Clarence doesn't put more stress on himself than he already suffers, physically or mentally."

Louise cocked her head, puzzled, "You're not telling me something."

He raised an eyebrow, put off for a moment, then said, "Call it patient confidentiality."

"Can you fix whatever's wrong?"

Dr. Reid chucked bitterly, "I'm afraid any measure I would take to help him would only make things worse. So I bring him documents on vampires in vain hope that encouragement from a friend might help in some way."

"Why'd you say it like that?" At his questioning expression she clarified, "Why'd you say vampires like you don't believe it?"

"It isn't that I don't believe in them," he said, his pale eyes intent on hers, "but that I know for a fact Clarence wouldn't stand a chance if he attracted one's attention."

"Neither would I, is what you're thinking," Louise frowned.

Dr. Reid softened at that. "Yes, but I know better than to say it." He changed the subject, "As I'm here, how are you, Miss Teasdale?"

"Are you being friendly, or being a doctor?"

"Both."

She smiled at that, "I'm alright, to both."

“You have multiple shallow lacerations across your shoulder.”

She shrugged, “Stings a bit, but it’s fine. Nothing I can’t clean up myself at home.”

He focused on her, looking her up and down like he could see through her to every bruise and scrape. It would have made her skin crawl if he wasn’t a doctor. “Hm. Well, as it’s nothing serious, I’ll let you get home and cleaned up. Be thorough, Miss Teasdale, especially with the epidemic, this is no time to have to find a doctor due to an infected wound.”

“Yes, doctor,” Louise dutifully responded with minimal rolling of her eyes. Dr. Reid was supremely unimpressed. “Yes, I’ll clean up,” she assured him more seriously, “and bandage everything properly, too.”

“Good,” he smiled. “Goodnight, Miss Teasdale. Take care of yourself.”

It wasn’t until he’d left that Louise realized he never told her what he was doing out at this time of night in the first place. As she walked home, she idly wondered how he’d found the information Clarence wanted. He was obviously worried about his friend, and he was right about Clarence’s chances against a vampire. But then, Dr. Reid had fought a proper vampire and won. It had taken three of them to take down a single obviously weaker skal. How had Dr. Reid defeated her abductor? Was he secretly a professional hunter?

Louise shook her head and made her way to her bedroom after cleaning up like she'd said she would, the physical toll of the night’s events finally catching up to her. These were questions for another night.

Once Louise and Mr. Crossley were out of sight around a corner, Ichabod started his own walk, thoughts a jumble. He forced himself to focus, to be aware of the Guard patrols and howls in the night, sounds of fighting that so many people dismissed as violence among the gangs in their desperation to make sense of the world. Ichabod knew better. Unfortunately, what he had thought made sense was beginning to fray a bit.

They should have died. He knew this. Dr. Reid had been partially right, the night he challenged the vampire hunter's claims; Ichabod would never survive a one-on-one encounter with a healthy monster. He knew that. He'd seen a vampire's strength firsthand when one threw a corpse from the roof of the Night Shelter like a discarded rag. But Louise had been so set on the course and he couldn't disappoint her. He couldn't disappoint himself, again. So he'd led them through the docks, alongside the Priwen patrol routes, hoping the most dangerous things would be kept occupied. The single, lone skal was still a risk, but far more plausible than any other creature. And it had worked. By God, it had actually worked.

Ichabod had once before successfully tracked a… in hindsight, he supposed it was a skal, now that he had a name for it. Seeing the similarity between the thing they killed tonight and the pitiful frightened creature he'd tracked down before put him in mind of another pair of strange eyes.

His feet took him to the place he needed to be without even thinking about it. It was also the one place he didn't want to be tonight. For the first time ever, Ichabod Throgmorton, vampire hunter extraordinaire and protector of the East End, stood before Sean Hampton's Night Shelter and was too terrified to go inside. Going inside would mean confirming a truth he desperately didn't want to know. 

But the Sad Saint of the East End was not the sort of man to leave one of his flock alone in the night. "Are you alright, Mr. Throgmorton?"

Ichabod took a step back before catching himself. Sean was crossing the yard with concern on his face. Ichabod had to say something. "What? Oh, fine. Perhaps a bit... overwhelmed. We had success tonight."

Sean froze a few feet from him, brow raised, "Success?"

"Ha, don't be so surprised! I knew we'd…" the bravado that had always shielded him so well faltered, "they were incredible, Louise and Clarence, everything fell into place and worked." The words poured, the need to talk outweighing his fear, "It was a type of vampire called a skal. It was alone in an alley, howling to itself as it feasted on a corpse. We killed it, the three of us working together. But after, when I got a proper look at its face, it reminded me of…" Ichabod looked away, his heart pounding. 

"Of what?" It was utterly unfair that Sean could stay so calm.

Ichabod still couldn't look at him, but he spoke. "No one believes me, but I really did track down a vampire once. She was sickly, frightened and hurt in her rotten den, a pathetic sight instead of a savage beast. I let her go. I knew what she was, and I still let her go. Now I wonder if she might have been like that thing we found tonight, if I condemned someone through my inaction?"

Sean was firm, "Do not regret your moment of mercy, Ichabod. You don't know everything about these creatures—"

"Of course I don't!" Ichabod shouted, finally facing him, "How can I? But they have to be stopped, don't they? I know everyone thinks I'm a lunatic, but I am dedicated to my quest! There is an evil in this city that must be fought and," he took a deep, shuddering breath, "and until tonight I thought I knew what it looked like."

Sean was quiet for a moment. "Evil can wear many faces. So can Good."

Ichabod huffed, rubbing between his eyes as if to fend off this nightmare of a conversation. "Sean. I've never asked about your change since you came back from hospital, but…" Ichabod looked at Sean as he stood there quietly with nothing but patience. "Of course not. You wear a cross," Ichabod latched onto that detail, that small chance that he could forget ever suspecting the one person he respected most. "You pray, you… I've never seen you eat or drink since you came back from hospital, but that doesn't mean—" he laughed a little, "Now I do sound like a lunatic, rambling on. I'm… tired, that's all. I'm sorry, Mr. Hampton," Ichabod sat on a nearby crate, head in his hands, exhausted in mind and body.

"There's no reason to apologize," Sean said. After a moment, he quietly added, "I imagine it's hard to understand, but this was a blessing from the Lord, to do His will in the world for eternity."

Ichabod froze. He swallowed hard, a cold pit in his stomach as he slowly looked up, "...What was?"

"When I became a skal."

Ichabod leaped three steps away as Sean sat down on a crate of his own, "Why would you admit it!?"

Sean leaned forward, elbows on his knees and hands clasped in front of him, "I didn't want you to continue torturing yourself. You're a good man, Ichabod, and a compassionate one. You're determined in your quest to protect this place, my flock. I just have to convince you they don't need protecting from me."

Ichabod breathed, trying to calm down, to make some sense of this. It didn't help that Sean was speaking as if they were discussing the weather. "You… you said this was the Lord's will. Do you truly believe that?"

Sean nodded, "I do."

"But don't you crave blood?"

"Skals feed on flesh, not blood," Sean explained. "Many feed on the dead and never attack the living, wishing only to stay hidden and safe. There are those, like the one you killed tonight, who have succumbed to the hunger and are beyond reason."

That wasn't reassuring. "How do you know you won't become one of them?"

"My hunger has been sated."

Ichabod almost laughed, "And you expect me to believe that??"

Sean shrugged, "I don't expect you to believe anything. I can only tell you the truth, as strange as it sounds."

Ichabod tried to reconcile the facts, “You claim you're not a threat. You want nothing but to continue your work here.”

“Yes.”

“What if I don't believe you? How do I know this isn’t a trick?”

Another small shrug, “That's up to you. I won't fight you. I've no wish to do harm to anyone.”

Ichabod scoffed, “You'd just sit there and let me put a stake through your heart?”

Sean made a face, “I'd prefer something a little less gruesome, if it comes to that.”

Ichabod caught himself snickering, “This is no laughing matter,” he berated himself. He paced back and forth, torn between knowing he should kill the skal sitting before him, and desperately wanting to avoid it. It sounded like Sean Hampton. He’d seen nothing to suggest it wasn’t Sean! Damn it, vampires were a threat, he knew that to be true… and he knew the Night Shelter was the only safe place on the Docks, apart from the Turquoise Turtle. He knew the Shelter took in all the outcasts and dregs of society. People like him. Sean was a saint. Vampires couldn't be saints… could they?

He stopped pacing, the memory of the first skal he tracked in his mind. "Just another lost soul," he said quietly to himself, "like the rest of us." Ichabod breathed a long sigh, and sat down. "Some vampire hunter I am."

Sean was curious, "Am I to be spared, then?"

Ichabod scoffed, "I can't very well kill the one person keeping hope alive on the Docks, now can I? The Wet Boot Boys would have their way with the place." He gestured to the building across the yard, "And what would happen to all the people sleeping inside the Shelter?"

Sean nodded, sincerely grateful, "Thank you, Ichabod."

Ichabod leaned forward, a twist of uneasiness still coiled inside, "Sean, if you ever… if you feel like you're slipping, even the slightest—"

"I expect you to use that stake at the first sign something is wrong," Sean said, more amused than Ichabod expected.

"We have an understanding," Ichabod breathed, relieved.

Sean stood, "There's a free bed inside if you want to rest here. You can keep an eye on me."

"Even I can't keep watch while asleep."

"As I sleep during the day as well, that should work out."

"Ah. Right," Ichabod joined him and they slowly walked back to the shelter, "of course."

"I'd prefer you not inform your friends."

Ichabod was offended, his gravitas and bluster restored, "Mr. Hampton, I may be a bit mad, but I'm not an idiot!"

Sean Hampton laughed. It was a surreal turn of events, Ichabod reflected, but then so was his entire quest. He had successfully eliminated a dangerous skal, and condoned the existence of a benevolent one, in one night. No wonder he was exhausted.


	6. Chapter 6

Ichabod met Louise on Clarence's usual corner the next night, as planned. He'd stayed at the Shelter the whole day, sleeping peacefully for the first time in months. He was probably going mad, he reflected, sparing a vampire with one hand and killing them with another. But then, the idea that he might be insane was one he'd considered multiple times before. He'd also talked a bit with Lottie Paxton, knowing that if anyone would see anything strange in Sean Hampton, it would be her. She was worried about Sean's health, as was everyone, but hadn't noticed any change in his behavior at all. That was encouraging. 

Louise was waiting for him alone. Clarence was nowhere to be seen. "Good evening, Miss Teasdale. Any sign of our scholar?"

Louise shook her head, "Not yet. He probably lost track of time reading all his new documents."

"Ah! So his friend came through after all?"

She nodded, "Though I can't figure out how a doctor would know where to find all that sort of information."

Ichabod's brow furrowed, "A doctor? Not Dr. Jonathan Reid, of the Pembroke Hospital?"

Louise stared at him, "You know him, too?!"

"Well, yes," Ichabod was a bit taken aback, "he helped put up my posters."

"He what?" She hastened to her point, "He's the one that saved me from the vampire! And he's a friend of Clarence's, and he helped you?" Louise's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, "He's always out at night! What if he's another vampire hunter?"

Ichabod's jaw dropped. "That… might be a possibility, but I find it hard to imagine. He was so dismissive when we met, and I doubt it was professional jealousy. Still, perhaps we should—" Clarence suddenly appeared, stumbling toward them in obvious distress. Louise and Ichabod hurried to help, Ichabod steadying him as he nearly collapsed, "Easy, now! What's happened?"

Clarence shook his head, breathless, "She burned them. I thought for sure this time I could convince her, but…" he groaned, "oh no."

"Clarence?" Louise asked, "What's wrong? You're sweating like you ran here."

"Feel like I'm going to be sick, stomach feels like it's burning—"

"Hospital," Ichabod ordered. "Come on, Clarence, let's get you to Pembroke."

By the time they staggered to the gates, Clarence could barely stand. Ichabod and Louise each had one of his arms over their shoulders, moving forward steadily if slowly.

"Miss Teasdale?" someone called from the street behind them, “What's happened— Clarence!”

Dr. Reid was beside them astonishingly fast, taking Clarence from them and guiding him to an empty bed in the closest tent, shouting instructions to a nearby nurse.

"Johnny," Clarence groaned, "Venus drank it too, she—"

"I doubt she poisoned herself. It must have been in your cup before she poured. Can you tell me your symptoms?"

"Chest hurts… dizzy, can't breathe…"

"He was sick multiple times on the way here," Ichabod added, "and said his limbs and face felt numb."

Dr. Reid nodded as he took some supplies from the returning nurse, "Hopefully he can keep some charcoal down to decontaminate his stomach. I'm most concerned with how irregularly his heart is beating."

"Venus poisoned him?" Louise demanded.

Dr. Reid hesitated briefly, but nodded. 

Ichabod was baffled, "Who is Venus?"

"His _wife_ ," Louise growled, and took off back toward the West End.

"I'll do everything I can to keep him alive," Dr. Reid ordered Ichabod, "you keep her from doing something rash!"

"Ha! That might be harder than hunting vampires," Ichabod said as he hurried after her.

It wasn't hard to find the Crossley residence; starting near Clarence's corner and knocking on a few doors worked well enough. The woman who answered was a pretty blonde in pearls. "Yes?"

"Are you Venus Crossley?"

The woman huffed, "Yes. Who are you?"

"My name's Louise Teasdale. I know your husband," Louise met the other woman's wary gaze. "I want to know why you poisoned him."

Venus scoffed and started to shut the door, "You're mad."

Louise darted forward, her shoe in the gap of the door keeping it open, "Do you have any idea how that stuff you gave him works? How much he's suffering right now?"

Venus snapped back, "Suffering! The war stole my husband from me, turned him into a pitiful madman. If he had never come home I could have mourned and moved on with my life, but instead I'm trapped in this madhouse! He said you actually fought one of these creatures!"

"Did you ever even try to help him,” Louise accused, supremely unimpressed, “or did you just decide he was too embarrassing to be with?"

"How dare you!" Venus hissed. "If you hadn't encouraged him—"

Louise was incensed, "Don't you dare try to blame this on me!"

A firm hand pulled her from the door, "Louise! You aren't helping Clarence this way!" Ichabod said.

The Crossley door slammed shut, and Louise rounded on her friend, "She poisoned him like a rat! Why are you just standing there?!"

"Because Dr. Reid knew she was responsible." Ichabod's calm was almost as stunning as his answer. He continued, "If he knew she was going to poison his friend, don't you think he would have warned him?"

Louise paled, "Clarence knew she wanted to kill him?"

"I think we should visit the hospital in the morning and find out." Ichabod ventured a small, melancholy smile, "Dr. Reid said he would do everything he can to keep Clarence alive. There's nothing more we can do for him but wait."

Louise hated that he was right. She nodded and started walking, forcing Ichabod to catch up. He walked beside her silently.

"Do you think she tried before?" Louise asked.

"It's hard to say," Ichabod was quiet and serious. "We've only known him a short time, and he always seemed sickly."

"He had some convulsions last night, after fighting the skal. I thought it was some sort of trauma from the war, but what if he was suffering from poisoning the whole time?"

Ichabod sighed, "There's no way we could have known. If he knew and chose not to say anything… well, that is his decision, and one which we can ask him about in the morning."

"Bad enough vampires are real," Louise muttered, "why do people have to be such monsters to each other?"

Ichabod didn't have an answer. The human being was indeed a cruel creature. Vampires were still worse, being soulless predators with terrifying powers and all. Well, with one exception.

“Why don’t you come back with me to the Night Shelter?" She was surprised by his suggestion, and to be honest he surprised himself. Yet… "There’s almost always a free bed, and if there isn’t, Lottie would probably build one on the spot.”

Louise weakly protested, “I’ve got a place—”

“Your father’s house, in a part of town you hate. Hardly conducive for a night of rest,” Ichabod smiled a little. “If it helps, you can consider this a recommendation from your tutor. Or friend,” he added awkwardly, “whichever fits better.”

She laughed a little, holding back tears, “Can it be both?”

Ichabod wasn't sure how Mr. Hampton would react to him bringing Louise to the Shelter after the previous night's conversation, but he needn't have worried. Sean took one look at them, walked right over, and said with perfect courtesy, "Good evening, Miss Teasdale. Here for training again?"

She shook her head, "Not this time."

"You're welcome here no matter the reason," Sean said kindly. "Will you be taking me up on the offer of supper this time?"

She grinned, "Maybe."

"Good," he nodded, and went back inside to assist Lottie.

The Night Shelter wasn’t very full tonight, though the Paxton sisters were of course present. Louise gave Giselle as good as she got, and Lottie took to her instantly. The three women were chatting after the meal when Sean approached Ichabod across the room. 

"Can I ask what happened?"

Ichabod sighed, "The third in our hunting party, Clarence, was poisoned by his wife."

Sean was shocked, "Fatally?"

"I don't know. We got him to the Pembroke, but we don't know if he'll survive the night."

Sean crossed himself and said a brief prayer. "You brought Miss Teasdale here to take her mind off it?"

"I thought she was going to do harm to his wife," Ichabod smirked. "And I don't think living in the West End is good for her. I just… wanted her to be safe tonight. Have a moment's peace."

"Mm. We best hope she's not as observant as you."

"She's a sensible young woman," Ichabod said as much to convince himself as Sean. "I'm sure she'd come to the same conclusion regarding you as I did."

Sean smiled a little, "I've no intention of throwing her out, Mr. Throgmorton. In fact, I might indulge in just a touch of pride to know that you thought of bringing her here when you needed a place of peace." 

Ichabod cleared his throat and covered his discomfort with a quiet but no less firm declaration, “Of course I did! The Night Shelter is a sanctuary in the midst of a battleground. You can decry being a saint all you want, Mr. Hampton, but this place is nothing short of a miracle.”

Sean responded with expected modesty, “If it is, then it’s through the grace of the Lord. I presume you’re going to perform your usual patrol tonight?” 

“Naturally,” Ichabod said.

“Do you not think it’s a touch superfluous, given what you know about me?”

Ichabod rolled his eyes, “I also know you’re a pacifist, Mr. Hampton. Someone has to keep watch.”

“Don’t let your apprentice tire herself out. You’re both supposed to be here for rest and peace, remember?”

“Ah. A quick patrol, then.” Ichabod added, chagrined, “Honestly, I don’t think I’d be able to rest without at least walking around the neighborhood once.”

Sean chuckled. “A fair compromise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Sean’s become a much more prominent character than I planned, but what can I say, he’s great. *shrug*
> 
> I also wanted to mention that I originally conceived a slow poisoning by arsenic for Clarence, which is what his previously described symptoms are supposed to reference. Then I realized that Venus claims the poison is “untraceable.” Thanks to the Marsh Test, arsenic was definitely traceable. So, I decided to take this chapter’s poison symptoms from aconitine, the highly toxic alkaloid found in monkshood, and other plants of the genus _Aconitum._
> 
> Thank you for your indulgence. :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again to everyone who has commented and left kudos! It is very much appreciated. :)

_“... prescribed quinidine, then spent an hour watching him as if he could will the heart to beat as it should!”_

_“It's not like you to exaggerate, Nurse Branagan."_

_"I'm not, Dr. Tippets! That's exactly what it looked like for a whole hour, at least…”_

Clarence drifted in and out of dizzy consciousness. At first someone had been beside him, but he hadn’t been in his right mind to really remember much apart from brief moments of panicked paralysis. Now he was vaguely aware of people passing by, of antiseptic and fresh air. He was lying on a bed in a tent.

A figure in a white coat approached, and Clarence felt… uneasy. He couldn’t have said why, but some deep instinct told him to be wary. It was too dark in the tent to see the doctor’s face clearly, apart from the fact that he wore glasses. Clarence feigned disoriented exhaustion, not that it was difficult.

“Ah, so you’re Jonathan’s friend,” the man muttered to himself. “Regular heartbeat, if weak. Digestive system is something of a mess, but that can be managed. Astounding.” The man chuckled as he left the tent, “I must ask him to show me how he did it, even if I don't expect an answer.”

A nurse on the other side of the thin tent cloth uttered a surprised, “Director Swansea! Are you looking for someone?”

“Just checking on Dr. Reid’s patient,” he assured her as he continued walking away. “It wouldn’t do for a murderer to have success on our watch, would it?”

“Hmpf,” the nurse mumbled to herself, “more concerned about the possible scandal than the murder, I bet.”

Clarence was confused. Swansea hadn’t laid a hand on him. How had he known his heartbeat was regular? Clarence was too tired to think about the possibilities. 

When he next opened his eyes, he was greeted with quiet gusto, "There, you see? Nothing to worry about."

"I thought the nurse was going to throw you out with all your pacing," Louise chuckled.

Clarence looked up and saw Ichabod and Louise standing at the foot of the bed, sunlight streaming behind them. "What are you two doing here?"

"Nice to see you, too," Louise teased.

"We came to see if you had survived the night," Ichabod said. "Clearly you did, thank God."

"How long have I been here?"

"It's noon. We brought you here last night."

"Oh," Clarence was relieved, "good. I lost some days during the war, I'm glad that didn't happen again."

Ichabod smiled a little, "And we're glad Dr. Reid made good on his promise to do everything he could to keep you alive. Though," he shifted awkwardly, "we were hoping you could tell us… you don't have to of course, but—"

"Why my wife tried to kill me?"

"Well, no, not exactly. We think we've figured that out, roughly, what with your dedication to spreading the word about vampires and the cruelty of high society and all. A bit of an extreme reaction, but the woman clearly resented—"

"Did you know she wanted to kill you?" Louise quietly got right to the point.

Clarence sighed, "Johnny told me. I didn't want to believe him, but I wasn't surprised. I got angry at him. Why tell me such a thing?"

"I imagine to save your life," Ichabod drawled.

Clarence shook his head, "My poor wife. I had no idea my research would drive her to such extremes. That she would hate me so much."

Louise was baffled, "If you knew, then why didn't you stop her?"

"I kept thinking that I could make her believe me."

"Come now, Clarence," Ichabod said solemnly, "that can't be true.

Clarence was quiet for a long moment. He slowly sat up, "It is true. I don't expect her to ever love me again, but if I could make her see the truth then at least she would be safer and she might be able to forgive me. And I… I didn't want to stop her. I didn't even think of trying. I just bought myself time, fixed my own food and drink or ate away from home. I focused on the work. Nothing else mattered." His calm started to slip, "There's no way to stop them. We're nothing but prey for supernatural creatures in the shadows, how could I worry about my wife poisoning me?"

Ichabod and Louise shared a glance. "My friend," Ichabod said, "I think your priorities may have become slightly skewed along the way." Clarence frowned, angry, but Ichabod smoothly spoke over his protest, "Do you know, I used to wonder if I was as insane as everyone thinks I am? Only a week ago, I likely would have thanked an attacking vampire for proving I was right all along."

Clarence's words died on his tongue. "Thank? What?"

"It would have been reassuring," Ichabod shrugged. "Then a remarkable woman made her way across the city in search of me, wanting to become my apprentice."

Louise made a rude sound behind him.

He chuckled, "I'm serious! With you and Clarence supporting me, I feel like I might actually live up to my self-appointed title." He smiled kindly at Clarence, who was still stunned. "My point is that we're stronger together, and Louise and I would very much appreciate it if you could… well, not die."

"You fumbled the end a bit," Louise quietly teased. 

Ichabod sighed, shushing her, "I've never been any good at speeches."

"Could have fooled me," Clarence said. "Though Louise is right, the end—"

"If you two are quite finished critiquing my attempts at moral support," Ichabod puffed himself up, making Clarence and Louise share an amused look, "we should find out when Mr. Crossley can leave the hospital."

"And where he's going to stay after," Louise said.

Clarence was confused for a moment, then realized what she was getting at. "Oh. Venus."

"Dr. Reid's testimony could help get her arrested," Louise said.

Clarence shook his head, "It's an epidemic. People are falling sick all the time, skals are assumed to be normal people driven mad by disease. Unless Venus left a bottle of whatever she used in the kitchen, which my wife is too intelligent to do, there's no way to prove anything."

"You can't go back to her." Louise was adamant.

"What choice do I have?" Clarence shrugged helplessly. "She would never agree to the scandal of a divorce, and I'm not sure I care for the idea myself, honestly. Besides, I would have to accuse her of adultery for us to have legal grounds."

"So just leave! Let her keep the house and money, just get out."

Ichabod gently interrupted, "Before Clarence can go anywhere, first he has to leave the hospital. Let's talk to a doctor and find out when that can safely happen."

The answer was "immediately, if he's feeling well." As they had no idea what poison was used, no one knew what lingering signs to look out for. It was generally agreed among the staff that Clarence's recovery was just short of a miracle, and as such there was nothing the hospital could do for him unless new symptoms appeared.

Ichabod delivered the news with enthusiasm, "We'll step outside to let you get out of that medical gown and into your clothes."

"Did they really call it miraculous?" Clarence asked as he followed Ichabod and Louise down the street.

Ichabod nodded, "It seems we were extremely fortunate that Dr. Reid was on the grounds last night."

Clarence nodded, pensive. Something he'd overheard last night, it was so foggy now…

"I still think he's a hunter," Louise said.

Clarence was alarmed, "Who?"

"Dr. Reid," she said. "Think about it, he's always out at night, he was able to get you all that information, he single-handedly killed the vampire that kidnapped me, he can't be just an average doctor!"

Ichabod made a considering sound, "The strongest argument for your theory is that he rescued you. It took three of us to take down one skal. Even the Guard of Priwen always hunt in groups."

"So you've never taken down a vampire by yourself?" Clarence teased.

Ichabod's bravado couldn't hide the touch of chagrin, "I believe I've already admitted that my success may be a bit exaggerated."

"Not in those exact words," Louise smiled, "but we know you're doing your best."

"Hmph," Ichabod did a terrible job of feigning indifference, obviously pleased in spite of himself. "Well, hunter or no, Reid is certainly an efficient doctor. I didn't even notice when he took Clarence's pulse."

Clarence stopped walking. "Say that again."

Ichabod and Louise turned to him, surprised, but Ichabod clarified, "He made a comment about how irregularly your heart was beating, but I don't remember seeing him," Ichabod's eyes widened, "oh dear god you don't think…"

Clarence nodded slowly. "One of the nurses said something about him watching me as if he was willing my heart to beat as it should."

"Can vampires control heartbeats?"

"They can control blood, it amounts to the same thing, doesn't it?"

"You can't be serious," Louise said, pale. "Are you two really suggesting that Dr. Reid is a vampire?"

Ichabod nodded, "That's how he was able to defeat your captor. It explains why he's always out at night, his pallor, how he goes across the whole city without fear of getting ill himself!" Ichabod dramatically covered his face with a hand, "How could it have never occured to me!"

"We don't have any real proof," Louise said. "And he helped us! All of us! Why would he do that if he was a vampire?"

"He's laughing at us," Clarence said. The words sounded hollow, his expression blank. Good old Johnny. His friend.

"Or," Ichabod slowly suggested, "and I know how this will sound, but please consider it. Perhaps not all vampires delight in their… appetites."

Clarence was aghast, "What?"

Ichabod tried to calm him down, "Clarence, it’s only a thought."

"It’s ridiculous!" Clarence shouted.

"Why?"

Clarence stared at him, "Because they’re monsters!!"

Ichabod stayed firm, "So are people. Your own wife tried to kill you. Gangs have carved up the Docks and Whitechapel, the entire East End is nothing but terror after dark and has been so long before vampires decided to take advantage of the epidemic! But there are a few individuals," he gestured to himself, "who do their best not to give in to the violence, to keep their spirits up and not fall to bitter apathy. They want to help. Perhaps there are a very small number of vampires who feel the same."

Louise was looking at him strangely, but he was more concerned with the way Clarence was frowning. 

"Vampires aren't people," Clarence said.

Ichabod sighed heavily, "Alright, if Dr. Reid is merely a demon in human guise, bereft of compassion or moral compass, then why does he help people? I can believe he helped put up my posters out of twisted humor, but why go through the effort of saving Louise's life? It doesn't make sense."

The bit about the posters had hurt more than he let on, Louise could tell. Reid had probably been the first person to actually offer Ichabod help, and it stung to discover it had been a joke at his expense. But Ichabod was right, it didn’t make sense for a vampire to save her and leave her alone. “He always checks in when he sees me,” she said, “makes sure I’m healthy and doing alright. Does that with all of us.”

“A farmer ensures the livestock is healthy,” Clarence said bitterly.

“He could have killed me in the sewers!” Louise said. “No one would have known, he had to have worked up an appetite after fighting the bastard that kidnapped me.”

“The fact that he hasn’t attacked any of us yet doesn’t mean he never will,” Clarence insisted, “and it doesn’t mean he hasn’t attacked anyone else! Who would know if he did? You’re both infuriatingly willing to assume the best of intentions from a creature that burns in the sunlight, can’t stand the presence of a cross, and drinks the _blood of the living_!”

Ichabod started to say something, and stopped.

“Ichabod,” Louise said, arms crossed, “can you explain why you think there might be ‘friendly’ vampires?”

He hesitated before declaring, “You were just now speaking in defense of Dr. Reid yourself!”

“I was confirming that he’s done nothing to hurt us, and in fact seems to want us to be well. I… can’t imagine that he wants to do us harm. But Clarence is absolutely right, the fact that he likes us doesn’t mean he hasn’t hurt someone else.” She stepped closer to him, and he flinched. “Do you know of a vampire that helps people?”

With a moment of decision, Ichabod looked her straight in the eyes and said, “Whether or not I know of one does not change the possibility of its existence.”

Louise frowned.

“We still don’t have proof Dr. Reid is a vampire,” Ichabod pointed out. “We’ve only conjecture and the description of a gossiping nurse.”

“I know where he lives,” Clarence said. “We can follow him one night.”

“You’re assuming he sleeps in his family home.”

“Even if he doesn’t, he visits the area often.”

“He’s sure to notice all three of us,” Ichabod said. “I could—”

“I’ll do it,” Clarence insisted. “I’m sorry, Ichabod, but I can’t trust you to do this. Jonathan Reid was the best man at my wedding, I have to know if he’s still that man or if he’s… changed.”

Ichabod wasn’t happy with the answer, but understood. “Very well. Just in case he doesn’t visit the West End tonight, Louise will stand guard by the hospital and I will keep an eye out along the Docks. Are you familiar with Sean Hampton’s Night Shelter?”

“No.”

“We can take you, it’s closed during the day but I can show you the location. We’ll all meet there at midnight. If you don’t arrive by midnight, we’ll meet on Clarence’s corner in the West End. If we don’t see you by then… we’ll assume the worst.”

Clarence nodded, his throat tight. “Why this night shelter place?”

“I imagine Dr. Reid doesn’t do his hunting in the West End, if he does it at all. If he goes to Whitechapel, then I suppose it’s a moot point and we’ll meet at your corner. If he goes south, however, the Night Shelter is the safest place on the Docks.”

Clarence nodded, “Alright. Show me. Then I’ll do my best to get ready, however I can.”

Ichabod put a hand on Clarence’s shoulder. “We’ll show you, and then you’re going to come with us to the Turquoise Turtle.”

Clarence blinked. “Where?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Yes, Clarence really would have had to accuse Venus of adultery to get a divorce. Divorces were rare, extremely expensive, and socially scandalous. Women couldn't file for divorce until 1923, and it wasn't until 1937 that cruelty, desertion, and incurable insanity joined adultery as legal grounds for divorce.


	8. Chapter 8

The Turquoise Turtle, Clarence discovered, was a pub. After Ichabod and Louise led him to the Night Shelter, some sort of charity organization inside a repurposed warehouse from what he could tell, they brought him to the public house for something small to eat and to see about a room to rest. Louise hadn't been to the Turtle before either, but Ichabod greeted the owner by name.

"Good afternoon, Tom! Just opened?"

"Afternoon, Mr. Throgmorton, and yes. Don't usually see you out and about with the sun up," Tom joked.

"A rare occasion of important business during the day," Ichabod said. "These are my colleagues, Miss Louise Teasdale and Mr. Clarence Crossley."

"Colleagues?" Tom was amused. "Got yourself a team, then?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Ichabod nodded with pride, "and if you're ready for customers, we'll be your first of the day."

"Of course! Have a seat."

"I imagine he doesn't believe in vampires," Louise whispered as they took a table.

"No, but he's a good man," Ichabod said.

A waitress came to the table, "Mr. Throgmorton, what'll it be?"

"Hello, Miss Cavendish," Ichabod greeted, and ordered for everyone. He insisted that Clarence try to eat something, especially considering there wouldn't be much of a chance later in the evening. Clarence insisted on footing the bill.

"If you two hadn't dragged me to the hospital last night, I'd be dead," he said over Ichabod's polite protest, "the least I can do is cover this. My family fortune isn't depleted just yet," he managed to joke. 

"Don't worry," Louise said as she sipped her small gin, "Dad made sure we had money put away before he died, I'll take care of you when you're broke."

Clarence choked on his tea as Ichabod laughed.

“I’m serious!” Louise grinned. “Hunting vampires doesn’t pay rent, I don’t know where Ichabod stays when he’s not at the Shelter.” 

"A flat," Ichabod stated flatly. 

Louise didn't pry, “You can both use my house. It gets Clarence away from Venus—”

“Louise,” Ichabod quietly interrupted, “before you give Clarence a heart attack, consider that you are suggesting two men, each ten years your senior, move in with you, and one of them is married.”

Louise blushed but maintained, “Downstairs would be an office for the team, with living quarters upstairs! Nothing wrong with that.”

Ichabod considered this. “The location may be a problem. I don’t imagine there would be many clients from the West End, but then again it does lend an air of respectability.”

“You’re both mad,” Clarence stated, “and that’s me saying it.”

“We’re a team!” Ichabod finished his beer and pronounced, “A team needs a headquarters. You could run your printing operation from there, we could make regular patrols in addition to being available for clients, I would still have to make regular rounds by the Night Shelter of course, but why not take advantage of the opportunity?”

“If Venus were to find out I was running a vampire hunting business down the street—”

“That’s rather bold of you to assume you’d be running it.”

“Ichabod, please be serious for a moment.”

“I’m always serious.”

Louise cut in, “She can keep everything. It’ll be just like when you were off at war. You’ll still legally be married, but just tell her you don’t care, that she can live her life and have the money and house and everything.”

Clarence considered this with a thoughtful frown. 

“You still don’t actually want to separate, do you?” Ichabod gently asked.

Clarence sighed, folding his arms, “I want her to be happy.” He rubbed the side of his head with closed eyes, “I know, I know what she did and how insane it sounds for me to wish her well, but…” he leaned forward to rest his arms on the table but avoided the gaze of his friends, “I feel like it’s my fault. That I drove her to this. I love her… or I used to. I guess I don’t actually know anymore.” He glanced at his friends’ worried faces, “This is usually the point where Miss Teasdale makes some sort of comment.”

Ichabod smirked, and Louise shrugged, “I got engaged to a man on a whim to spite my dad, and then my fiance turned out to be a vampire. I shouldn’t be talking about marriage troubles.”

“You were engaged?” Ichabod was shocked. “You said he kidnapped you!”

Louise didn’t understand the fuss, “He did. I said I would marry him, then I changed my mind, and then he locked me up!”

“You're too smart to get engaged to someone just to spite your father,” Clarence said.

“I was also dead drunk,” she rolled her eyes. “We argued a lot, me and dad. Our last one was more of a fight.”

“A fight?” Ichabod asked before quietly realizing, “Your bruises. I always assumed they were from your abductor.”

Louise tossed back the rest of her gin and tried to ignore the devastated look on his face, “Dad slapped me and I kicked him hard in the balls. Then I went to a pub, got drunk, vampire found me, and when I didn’t come home my dad went looking for me. He knew I was in trouble.” Her throat felt tight, “Vampire found him first.”

“It’s not your fault he died trying to save you,” Clarence quietly offered.

Louise tried to smile, “It’s not your fault your wife tried to murder you, but here we are.”

“You two are going to be the death of me,” Ichabod sighed. “I’m not going to die from a vampire attack, it’ll be from worry over my friends’ well-being!”

"Oh hush," Louise elbowed him with a real smile. 

Clarence caught himself smiling a little, too. It was an odd group he'd fallen in with… but he was starting to think it was good for him.

"We can discuss matters of business more thoroughly another time," Ichabod said. "At the moment I would like to turn our attention to tonight's, ah, reconnaissance."

"We've already made arrangements," Clarence said as he ignored the anxious twist of his stomach. 

"And as soon as you see proof," Ichabod punctuated his words with a firm jab of a finger in the air, "you run immediately to the meeting place! We're no match individually against a vampire."

Clarence nodded, "I know. One glimpse, that's all I need."

Clarence lingered on the corner and watched the Reid family house, dusk settling over London with even more foreboding than usual. He wanted to be wrong. He wanted Jonathan Reid to walk out of that house and sit down at a restaurant somewhere, have a drink in a pub, anything at all to prove his humanity. He doubted it would happen.

An hour or so after sunset, Jonathan Reid appeared on the street. He hadn't been in the West End after all, approaching from the east, but he did go inside his family home. Jonathan stayed inside only briefly, checking in on his mother before hurrying off, Clarence imagined. As he came back outside, he stopped to talk briefly with the suffragette on the opposite corner, and then headed straight for Clarence.

"Clarence! You're back. How are you feeling?"

God, he sounded so genuine. "I'm…"

"We can start with physically," Johnny added kindly, and Clarence smiled sadly in spite of himself.

"Physically, I'm alright, I think. Stomach still hurts now and then, terrible headaches, but… I'll live."

"I'm very glad for that."

How could this man be a monster? And yet, the strong possibility was there. "What about you, Johnny? You look tired. Pale."

His eyes flicked away a moment, "I've been very busy. These night shifts are… strenuous. I'm on my way to take care of some work now, in fact, but I wanted to check on you."

It always felt like he was hiding something. "Well, don't let me keep you. We can talk later."

"I hope so." He started to walk away, then suddenly asked, "Are you still living with Venus?"

Clarence blinked, surprised, "I haven't been home to find out. She doesn't know if I'm alive or dead, unless she asked at the hospital." He chuckled bitterly, "I suppose I should decide."

Jonathan hesitated, clearly eager to get to wherever he was going, but still wanting to help.

You're supposed to be following him discreetly, Clarence reminded himself. He might be a vampire, no matter how much you hope he isn't. "Go on," Clarence mustered a grin, "I can see you've got places to be."

His friend flinched, "If it wasn't so important—"

"I know, Johnny," Clarence reassured him. "Go save whoever you're saving."

"Goodbye, Clarence," Jonathan sighed, and headed down the street at a quick pace.

Clarence let him turn the corner, and hurried after him. Clarence expected it to be difficult to follow without being seen, but whatever mission Johnny was on seemed to have his complete focus. He moved quickly down the street until they were behind the Ascalon Club, which made Clarence more than a little nervous. Jonathan Reid went down some stairs to a little courtyard and opened a gate leading underground… 

Clarence stopped short, wary. What business did a doctor have in a sewer? Come to think of it, he'd saved Louise when she was being held there, but why had he been there in the first place?

"Rats," a voice whimpered across the street. "Need… help, Dr. Reid, please…"

Clarence turned from the sewer gate, alarmed. He carefully approached the woman muttering to herself against the wall of a building, clearly in some sort of agony. "Miss?"

"No!" she shouted, "Go away!"

Clarence froze, "I'm not going to hurt you. You said the name of my friend, Dr. Jonathan Reid?"

She choked back a sob, "He wouldn't kill me. Only way to stop, will never let me go, forces me to…" her voice suddenly shifted, harsher and commanding, "What has that meddling Ekon to do with you? Run along."

Clarence paled. Ekon?

The woman suddenly turned and walked away, still mumbling in her suffering. Did a vampire have control of her mind? They were behind the Ascalon Club; was someone inside doing this to her? Clarence hurried after her, "What's your name?"

"Carina… Billow," the woman answered with difficulty.

Clarence thought it was likely futile to learn the vampire's identity, but he had to know more, "Did you ask Dr. Reid to kill you?"

She nodded, "Please," she begged, "make it stop. Need blood, rats, sweet, disgusting… please," she keened and Clarence's insides twisted, "Doctor wouldn't, said he swore to never kill… and you don't have the guts for murder," the vampire in control finished.

A surge of anger born of pity blossomed in Clarence’s breast. _This_ was why people had to know the truth, why his mission was right and justified, and why he needed to keep the work going. Vampires were monsters, soul-eating demons, and if humans couldn’t fight them then they could at least help each other. He pulled his pistol and shot Carina Billow three times in the chest, swallowing hard as her body fell, his feet moving quickly before anyone could glimpse out a window. He ignored the nausea that threatened, comforted himself with the knowledge that Miss Billow would no longer suffer, the beginning of a smile on her face in her last moment.

Clarence headed south. No doubt the trail had gone cold, and who knew what other creatures might be hiding underneath London. He was in no condition to track a vampire through a sewer. No, not a vampire, an Ekon. That was the term, the name the ones who look human called themselves. Jonathan Reid, "meddlesome Ekon."

Clarence's thoughts were a whirl. Why didn't you put her out of her misery, Johnny? Had he been intimidated by the other vampire? Did he know who it was, was it someone too powerful to fight? Clarence had ended it quickly with a bullet, surely Jonathan could have done something if he'd wanted to! Had he left her to suffer, part of some sick game? Or did he truly mean what he told her, had he sworn not to take a life? Was the doctor still abiding by his oath to do no harm?

But a vampire who didn't kill? Preposterous. 

Wasn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back and forth on the ending of this chapter a dozen times, and I'm still not sure I'm happy with it. Let me know what you think.


	9. Chapter 9

Louise found Ichabod outside the Night Shelter. "Any sign of Clarence?"

He shook his head, "Not yet. No sign of Dr. Reid, either."

Louise sighed, "I saw Reid leave the hospital. Well, I didn't see him actually leave, but I saw him moving down the street. I'm not sure how he got past me, and I lost him soon after. He was headed west, so hopefully Clarence finds him." 

Ichabod nodded, distracted as he leaned against a wall. 

Louise folded her arms, "What's wrong?"

"Other than worry for our new friend tracking a vampire alone?" he tried to make a joke out of it, but it fell flat. He sighed, "Honestly, I think I'm more worried about all the other dangers on the streets than I am about Dr. Reid. One of us should have gone with Clarence."

"He didn't want us to," Louise tried to reassure him, "and he's more capable than anyone thinks he is, including himself."

Ichabod was quiet for a moment and suddenly straightened up, taking a few steps forward, "You're right, of course. I'm overthinking things, letting doubt get in the way!" As soon as it had appeared, the bravado faded, "You do think he's alright?"

"I do, yes," Louise said. "Not least of all because he's coming this way."

Ichabod spun around, saw Clarence running down the street, and hurried to meet him. "Are you alright?"

Clarence was out of breath, "Had to run from some Skals on the way… Priwen patrol was nearby, led the Skals to them and ran."

"Come on, have a seat," Ichabod gestured to the crates and barrels stacked across the market from the Shelter. He didn't want to risk anyone overhearing the conversation.

Clarence sat on a crate and said, "It's true. Jonathan Reid's a vampire."

Ichabod deflated, "You saw him attack someone?"

Clarence shook his head, "No, he didn't. I met a woman possessed by a vampire. Her mind was broken, but her tormentor called Jonathan a 'meddlesome Ekon.'"

Louise frowned, "How'd you know she wasn't just crazy?"

"She used the word Ekon! That's what they call themselves, the ones who seem human. How could she have known that? The only reason I know it is because I read it in those documents before Venus burned them!"

"Perhaps she overheard it," Ichabod said, "experienced something that drove her mad—"

"You weren't there!! You didn't see her begging for help one moment and mocking me the next, the way the expression on her face and tone of voice completely changed. She was searching for rats, struggling to stop herself, but she couldn't. I think…" his stomach turned, but he stayed firm, "I think she was being forced to eat them. This was not just a madwoman on the street ranting about nonsense."

Ichabod sighed, "Very well. If other, uh, Ekons, identify Dr. Reid as such, then we have our proof."

"So what are we going to do about it?" Louise asked.

They were silent for a long moment.

Clarence shuddered, "We fought one Skal, but we've never tried an Ekon." He looked at Louise, "You must have seen them fight when—"

"I couldn't watch," she folded her arms and looked away, frustrated with herself, "too fucking terrified."

"But what could you hear?" Ichabod asked, both curious and trying to be comforting. 

She looked at him with a shrug, "Sounded like someone was brawling with a wild animal. Some sounds I couldn't recognize, sort of these slick…" she gestured quickly with a hand, trying to illustrate a "whoosh" as she made the sound. "I did see the bastard turn to smoke, before the fight. He was pissed at me for always saying no, so he got all huffy and…" she made the whooshing gesture.

"Turn to smoke," Clarence groaned. "We're doomed."

"Maybe not," Ichabod said.

"How can we fight something we can't even hit?"

"Why do we have to fight him?" At Clarence's scowl, Ichabod hurried, "Yes, I know we just established Dr. Reid is a vampire, however—"

Louise interrupted, hands on her hips, "Why are you so keen on this 'good vampire' theory? Even if he's never hurt us, he's got to eat sometime, right?"

"... well, yes, I suppose so, but—"

"No, Miss Teasdale asks an excellent question," Clarence stood, suspicious. "Why _have_ you been so willing to give an evil creature the benefit of the doubt?"

"The fact of the matter," Ichabod said, drawing himself up, "is that we are ill-equipped to fight Dr. Reid. As he has given us no cause to believe he would do us harm— I said 'us' specifically, mind you— it seems that perhaps attempting to reason with him first might be prudent."

Louise snorted, "Excuse me, Mr. Vampire, could you not eat people?"

Clarence tried to fend off his headache, "Look, Ichabod, I appreciate your concern for our wellbeing, but it doesn't matter. We either confront him and likely die, or we live with the knowledge of what he is and keep him as far from us as possible, warn everyone we can."

Ichabod folded his arms, lips pursed. "If people believed us," he began carefully, "then they would shun the only source of free medicine on the Docks, if not the entire East Side."

"He's a blood-sucking monster!" Clarence shouted, bewildered and angry.

"He's a doctor! I've been his patient, I wager all of us have! So have people in the Shelter, he's even treated the local drunk!"

"And one day one of his patients will become a meal!"

Ichabod changed tactics, “You said you needed to know if your friend had changed or not. So far, you have discovered no evidence to suggest it, apart from his new dietary needs. In fact,” he spoke over Clarence’s further protest, “if anything, you’ve only confirmed that he is doing everything he can to be a decent person! He left alive a witness that could confirm his nature, he… by the way, what did he do when you saw him tonight?”

Clarence swallowed hard, his jaw clenched. Why was Ichabod being so stubborn, this was ridiculous… “He went home briefly. He asked me how I was doing when he saw me, if I was still living with Venus. He went into the sewers.”

“Hardly much by way of food in the sewers,” Ichabod uncrossed his arms, feeling vindicated.

“Hardly much by way of patients, either!” Clarence spat, his confidence shaken. A vampire who didn't kill. Was that possible?

Louise had had enough. “Stop it, both of you. We know he’s a vampire, right? What we don’t know is if he’s a threat. Yeah, Clarence, we know you think every vampire is a threat, and I’m inclined to agree. Ichabod thinks otherwise, though it’d help us a lot if you’d tell us why,” she glared at him. He was very quiet. She rolled her eyes, “Fine. So we’re going to do the same thing tomorrow night as we did tonight. Track Reid again, see if he attacks anyone. If he does, then we warn everyone we can about him, no matter how helpful he may seem.”

“We could follow him for a whole week and still not witness him attacking anyone,” Clarence grumbled.

Louise sighed, “We’ll start with tomorrow night. Let’s just stop arguing and get some rest. Think there are any spare beds in the shelter?” she asked Ichabod.

Ichabod was startled, but put on his best smile, “I’m sure we can find a few.”

“I can’t—” Clarence started, but Louise wasn’t having it.

“Let Venus stew a little. Come on.”

Ichabod pointed out Mr. Hampton to Clarence from across the room as Sean talked with Lottie Paxton. He hoped that would suffice for an introduction, and that Clarence would be too tired to protest being put to bed. Fortunately, discovering your childhood friend is a vampire and then running for your life from some Skals after recently recovering from a poisoning is exhausting. Clarence fell asleep quickly, though fitfully. Sean Hampton had noticed the arrival of Mr. Throgmorton and his friends, and decided to keep his distance for now. Louise, however, watched Sean closely as she waited for sleep to come.

Ichabod abandoned all hope of sleep after the first hour of trying. He sat on his cot and looked around the building, dark and quiet. Peaceful. Sean was in his office, a single light on. Ichabod had set up a cot next to it in order to be close by if something happened. He wasn’t sure if he was protecting Sean or potentially protecting people from Sean… no, that was a lie. He knew Sean wouldn’t hurt anyone here. The chance that could change was still there, but at the moment all was well.

Someone quietly approached, “Ichabod?”

“Louise. Is everything alright?” he whispered. He was glad Clarence was asleep on the other side of the warehouse, and the closest beds were still far enough away for them to quietly chat.

“Honestly? No.” Louise sat next to him on the cot, “I’m pissed off, actually.”

Ichabod sighed, “This is about my friendly vampire theory, isn’t it?”

She nodded with a glare, “I think I figured it out. Clarence hasn’t, but only because he hasn’t gotten a good look at Mr. Hampton, yet.”

Ichabod looked at her with alarm before he could stop himself. He cleared his throat, “Mr. Hampton?”

“Stop it, Ichabod. You love this place, you think the world of Sean Hampton, and you’d do anything to protect the Night Shelter. Even lie to your friends.”

Ichabod was offended, just barely managing to keep his voice down, “I have never lied to you! I simply chose not to reveal a secret I was asked to keep.” He sighed, “Clarence is so certain that every vampire is evil, he’d bring this place down in a heartbeat. I can’t let that happen.”

"And how do you know Clarence is wrong?"

He smiled sadly, "I don't suppose I do. It's very possible I'm a naive fool. I appointed myself guardian of this place, promised I would protect it… I'm terribly unqualified. It was partially an excuse to justify all the time I spend here. But I want to help, and I don't know how else I can. I was never much good at… anything." He shook off his melancholy, "But Mr. Hampton and I have an understanding; the first sign that he might be a threat, the slightest trace of something amiss, and I won't hesitate to stop him."

Louise was surprised at how firm Ichabod sounded. She still wasn't comfortable with the idea of letting a Skal run a shelter, but she believed Ichabod was serious when he said he would keep an eye on the place, and Mr. Hampton. And Mr. Hampton had been kind… she sighed, but that didn't matter, if Clarence was right. 

Ichabod misinterpreted her sigh, "Do you think less of me, letting a known vampire live?"

"Of course not."

He was skeptical, "Not exactly the sort of thing a vampire hunter extraordinaire would do."

She smiled, "I always knew you weren't really a ‘extraordinaire.’"

He sat up straight, voice an accusing whisper, "That is patently false, Miss Teasdale!" What he lacked in volume he made up for with grand gesture, "When we first met, you were certain that—"

"Fine, you fooled me," she tried not to laugh as she looped her arm into his, "but it didn't take long to figure out."

"Mm," he seemed placated, "well, you are an intelligent young woman, after all."

"You may not have been much of a hunter when we met, but now you can say you truly are a successful one."

"Thanks to you and Clarence."

She shrugged, "We make a good team."

"I think so. Which makes it all the more frustrating that Clarence refuses to give the man who saved his life a chance to defend himself."

"Excuse me, Mr. Vampire, could you please not eat people?" Louise drawled.

"I don't see why not," Ichabod defended. "Sean doesn't."

"Maybe Skals and Ekons are different. Beyond the obvious points."

"We won't find out if we don't… ask.” Ichabod’s eyes widened, “Oh dear God, I'm an idiot."

"What's wrong?"

"I'll ask Mr. Hampton! Dr. Reid came by the Shelter to check on him after he was in hospital, after he became a Skal, they must know the other's nature! If Sean Hampton says Dr. Reid is a good man—"

"He already did," Louise nodded. "We were talking and he said Dr. Reid would do anything he can to save lives… but it's a vampire talking about another vampire, that won't convince Clarence."

They leaned back against the wall with sighs.

Contrary to what both of his friends believed, Clarence was not asleep. He had slept, for an hour or two perhaps, but the nightmares overtook him. They had started as the usual battleground fare, memories of the Front made real again, and then devolved from there into fangs and blood… but this time Venus was killing him. He woke in a cold sweat, confused by the dark building until he remembered he was staying in the shelter on the Docks. Because his friends wanted to keep him away from her.

Jonathan had warned him. Then he'd saved him… had Johnny really stayed by his side, making sure he survived? Why would a vampire do that?

Clarence sat up with a shuddering breath. The doctor… the Ekon… had done nothing to hurt Clarence, or his friends. So, either he was playing a long game of deception, the purpose of which Clarence couldn't fathom, or this particular vampire considered them friends. Even if he did, that didn't mean he wasn't hurting others. But then why hadn't he killed Carina Billow?

"Damn it," Clarence sighed to himself, "why did it have to be you, Johnny?"

The terrible thing was that he wanted Ichabod to be right. He wanted to be able to reason with his old friend, he wanted there to be a way for Jonathan Reid to still be a good man instead of a monster… but he just couldn't see how. He couldn't make himself believe it, not when he'd seen vampires feasting with his own eyes, creatures capable of reducing a person's mind to dust, playing them like a puppet… how could Ichabod think vampires could be anything less than evil?

He heard a sound across the shelter, hushed voices by the office. He slowly stood and made his way around as quietly as he could.

"Louise," Ichabod softly asked, "why do you share my opinion, instead of Clarence's?"

"I don't. I think this is probably a terrible idea." She shrugged, "But Dr. Reid saved my life. Mr. Hampton was kind to me. The other vampire I've met was a bastard, but two out of three."

Ichabod started to laugh and tried to keep quiet. It didn't work very well, but no one asleep seemed disturbed. "Two out of three? Yes, excellent!" He got control of himself, "Ahem, though I am not so much of a fool to believe that our small sampling reflects the whole."

"Are you going to want to judge the intentions of every vampire we discover?"

"Not if they're actively attacking someone."

She was magnificently unimpressed. "Ichabod."

He shrugged, "I don't know, Louise, I haven't thought that far. At the moment, all I know is that a vampire has saved the lives of people who became my friends, healed the physical ailments of possibly all of my acquaintances, and has in general been a gentleman. Another vampire is sitting in the office behind us, praying. To a cross!" He gestured helplessly, "What are we supposed to do with that?"

"Vampires can't stand crosses," Clarence said as he approached, making his friends jump.

"This one can," Louise said. Ichabod covered his face with his hand. "He was gonna figure it out eventually," Louise gave Ichabod a little shove.

Clarence froze, glanced at the office, and glared at Ichabod.

Ichabod put a finger to his lips and gestured to the sleeping people.

Clarence scowled, sitting next to Ichabod’s other side, "We should be getting them out of here!" he said in a harsh whisper.

"To where?"

Louise suddenly shushed them and nodded toward the office. Ichabod's brow furrowed, but soon he could make out voices. From the look on Clarence’s face, so could he.

One was Mr. Hampton, and the other was a woman's voice. It sounded… not old, exactly, but somehow long-lived. The voice of someone who had seen too much, all emotion worn down into tiny subtleties.

"All of them?" Mr. Hampton asked her. "A slaughter?"

The woman spoke, "I am telling you what happened, because you have always been kind to us, even when you were human. I did not want you to venture down to us one day and find us gone without explanation."

The three friends looked at each other. Was she talking about Skals? 

"Thank you," Sean sounded distressed under the calm.

"More will come," she stated, a fact of life. "As long as there are vampires, there will be Skals."

"I'll always do what I can to help," Sean said. "But is it still dangerous? What about—"

"Jonathan Reid stopped her. The Disaster is defeated, the Blood Queen sleeps."

"Dr. Reid?"

"He was the champion chosen."

"... I don't understand, but I know better than to think you'll explain everything."

The woman made a sound like she was amused, a short laugh like the crunch of dead leaves, "I cannot explain much, but what I can, I will tell another night. Away from hearts that beat too quickly for sleep."

"Damn," Ichabod sighed as Louise cursed and Clarence started to leave. Ichabod grabbed his arm and held him still. "He's not going to hurt you."

"What about her??" Clarence hissed.

"They just want to be left alone! The sane ones, anyway."

"What do you mean the sane ones?!"

The door to the office opened. Sean Hampton stepped out with his arms crossed and a look on his face like an exasperated parent. He raised an eyebrow at Ichabod, who smiled as disarmingly as he could.

"Good evening, Mr. Hampton."

"Mr. Throgmorton."

"We weren't trying to spy, it's just—"

"You and Miss Teasdale were talking and couldn't help but wonder who the strange woman was," Sean finished. At least he didn't sound angry. "Come and introduce me properly to the friend frozen in fright that you're restraining." He went back inside his office.

Louise and Ichabod looked at each other, and then at Clarence. Ichabod stood, grip on his arm loosening. “Clarence,” Ichabod spoke quietly, with far more sympathy than anyone had shown him since he came back from the war. “I know we haven’t known each other long, but I consider you a friend, and you can trust me. Sean Hampton can be trusted, at least this far. We can talk to him.”

He didn’t want to. Clarence truly didn’t want to, his mind rebelling against the very idea… but Louise had been on his side, and she seemed an independent woman, and she was willing to do this. And Ichabod had helped him, had gotten him out of his isolation on the corner, he could… trust him… it was hard. 

“I know it seems mad,” Ichabod smiled. “I’m rather known for that.”

Clarence snickered in spite of himself. He breathed, and Ichabod’s grip released. "He's a Skal," Clarence said. 

Ichabod nodded, "He is."

They'd fought a Skal before. If this was a trap, they'd probably survive. Clarence took a deep breath, "Alright. Let's talk to him."

"Mr. Hampton, this is Mr. Clarence Crossley, the third member of Miss Teasdale and mine hunting party. Clarence, this is Mr. Sean Hampton, the man responsible for the Night Shelter, and Sad Saint of the East End."

Mr. Hampton sighed, "I'm no more a saint than anyone else, but I can't deny the title does help discourage the gangs from bothering us here."

Clarence was still struggling with confused fight or flight instincts and settled on a polite, "Hello."

Mr. Hampton was standing right in front of an open cabinet of religious paraphernalia, the cross on the top shelf shining in the light. "Ichabod mentioned you were in hospital last night," Mr. Hampton kindly did not mention the reason why. "I'm glad to see you recovered."

Clarence's confusion only deepened. "Thank you."

"Mr. Hampton," Louise only sounded slightly nervous, "the woman who was here, was she… a Skal?"

"Old Bridget? Yes. She's been in London for… oh, ages. She takes care of the Sewer Skals, Skals that just want to be left alone and hide from the world. Other vampires see them as inferior, you see. 'Skal' even means slave, and they're treated as such by Ekons and the like. With one notable exception."

"Jonathan Reid," Clarence said softly.

Mr. Hampton nodded.

"There's a whole community of Skals living in the sewers?" Louise asked.

Sean hesitated, "There was."

"It was destroyed," Ichabod said, "that's what, um, 'Old Bridget' was telling you."

"Yes." Sean glanced away, "I fear it's partially my fault. I delivered the woman to them, who would become the creature that slaughtered them all."

"Come now, Mr. Hampton," Ichabod gently chided, "you couldn't have known."

Sean nodded, his shoulders straightening, "I know. I did what I thought was best. Perhaps it was. All I can do now is pray for those lost and trust in the Lord."

Clarence mused on how surreal this moment was. A vampire hunter comforting a Skal in his grief over the loss of a community… a vampire who prayed to a cross. Ichabod had been right; what were they supposed to do with that?

Ichabod had clearly decided the answer was "nothing." He obviously respected Sean Hampton, despite the fact that the man undoubtedly ate human flesh to survive. Louise seemed less at ease, but still polite, and almost more curious than anything else.

"Did you help the Skals before you became one?" Louise asked.

"I did," Mr. Hampton said. "This place is a shelter for those who fall through the cracks of society, the poor and hungry, the forgotten and discarded. I saw very little difference between my human flock and the creatures hiding in suffering below London's streets. This remains true today."

Those eyes were extremely unnerving. Clarence couldn't keep the suspicion from his voice, "Did they turn you?"

"They did not, no. I was trying to help a man who struggled with his thirst for drink. Too late I discovered that what he thirsted for had changed." Mr. Hampton paused, and said, "If Dr. Jonathan Reid hadn't saved me—"

"Of course he did!" Clarence pinched between his eyes, a headache starting. "He's apparently saved half of London."

"All of it," Sean chuckled, "if I interpreted Old Bridget's cryptic statement correctly. But yes, he saved my life, brought me to the Pembroke, and while I was recovering, I…" he shrugged, "changed."

"And you don't want to eat people?"

"Clarence," Ichabod quietly sighed, but they ignored him.

"No, I don't," Sean said with a small smile. "I know you won't believe me, but Skals feed on the dead and are no threat to the living unless the hunger consumes them. My hunger has been sated."

He was right, Clarence didn't believe it. "How?"

"Jonathan Reid."

"Of course."

"Well," Ichabod said, "he is a doctor."

"How do you do that?" Clarence demanded, exasperated.

Ichabod was confused, "Do what?"

"Make insane statements sound like they make perfect sense."

"Making insane things make sense has been my primary occupation since I suspected vampires existed."

"That's not what I mean! Vampire do exist, that's no longer an insane thing to think!"

"It is to everyone who thinks you're wrong." 

Clarence was speechless for a moment.

"How do you put up with them, Miss Teasdale?" Sean joked.

She smirked, "Their spats don't last long."

"Spats?!" Ichabod protested with vigor.

"I'm going back to sleep," Clarence said and started to leave. 

“Mr. Crossley,” Sean said as Clarence’s hand was on the door. Clarence paused, reluctantly looking at him. “I know a Skal’s the last thing you want to hear preaching to you, but I couldn’t help but overhear your friends discussing your disagreement concerning a certain Ekon.” He took a step forward and froze when Clarence flinched, speaking gently, “The vast majority of monsters in the dark that I’ve encountered were human. Vampires are a real threat, to be sure… but you’ve already proven willing to show some mercy and compassion to someone who actively tried to harm you. Is giving an old friend a chance to explain himself so much to ask?”

“Forgiving a wife is different than confronting something inhuman.”

“That which is different and unknown terrifies everyone. The trick is whether we learn to keep the fear in check, confronting it and learning from it… or if we let it consume us like a Skal’s hunger.”

Clarence was startled, and immediately left without a word.

Louise hurried after him, following as he left the shelter and leaned on a cart in the marketplace. Somewhere in the distance was the sound of the Guard of Priwen in a fight. “Clarence?”

He shook his head, shivering, “Go away, Louise.”

“Rather not,” she slowly approached. “You going to run off?”

“Where would I go? I just need to think.”

She stood quietly beside him for a moment. “Ichabod just wants to help. Me, I wanted to learn everything I could so I would know how to kick its arse if I ever met another vampire.”

“I wanted to warn everyone,” Clarence sighed, “the whole world. Expose the danger for what it was. I never had any idea how to fight it, how to defend anyone. I was… am… so scared, I didn’t know what else to do. And I hate them, Louise, I hate vampires so much. Monsters masquerading as people, demons waiting to pounce… something in the world had to be worse than humans. The things I saw in the War, not just the officer feeding on a soldier, but the things human beings did to each other…” he rubbed his face and neck, tried to pull back from the memories, “but vampires at least were pure evil. Black and white. Simple.”

“You said ‘were,’” Louise quietly said.

Clarence’s throat was tight, “I don’t know. I want Ichabod to be right, for Johnny to be… I know he won’t be the same as he was before the war, no one is, but at least to be _good_. Nothing makes sense.” He looked at her, “Hampton was right.”

“What, the being scared thing?” Louise shrugged, “Maybe. But if you’re just gonna stand here all night feeling sorry for yourself, I’ll be forced to feel absolutely terrible for beating sense into a man so recently out of hospital.”

Clarence didn’t know why he found this so funny, and tried not to think about it. Nothing much made sense with these two, anyway.

Louise grinned, took him by the arm, and started back to the shelter. He let her lead him. “C’mon,” she said, “try to sleep. Besides, three vampire hunters and a friendly Skal in the building? Has to be one of the safest places in London.”

“Mr. Throgmorton has been a terrible influence on you, Miss Teasdale,” Clarence grumbled without any real feeling behind it.

She chuckled, “Friends do that.”

Clarence took a deep breath, and followed her back inside the Shelter. “I suppose you’re right.”


End file.
